Chapter 24

Sera POV

The interior of Morrison's Automotive hit me like a wall of sensory overload. Motor oil and metal polish created a sharp, masculine scent that seemed to coat the back of my throat.

It was exactly the kind of place I'd expected, yet something about walking through that door felt like crossing a threshold I couldn't see.

"Hello?" Bri called out, her voice echoing in the cavernous space.

The sound bounced off metal surfaces and disappeared into the maze of partially dismantled vehicles that filled every available corner.

"Someone's definitely here," she continued, gesturing toward the sound of clanging metal coming from deeper in the shop.

I hung back near the entrance, suddenly reluctant to venture further into the space. Every instinct I possessed was screaming that I should turn around and wait outside, but I couldn't articulate why.

The mechanical sounds stopped abruptly, replaced by the scrape of metal tools being set aside and footsteps approaching across concrete. My pulse quickened with anticipation I couldn't explain, like my body was preparing for something my mind hadn't recognized yet.

"Be right with you," a voice called from behind a lifted truck hood.

The voice sent an unexpected shiver down my spine, deep, slightly rough, with an accent I couldn't place but somehow found familiar.

I watched, transfixed, as a pair of hands appeared on the edge of the truck's hood. Strong hands, I noticed, with long fingers and calluses that spoke of years working with tools and metal. There was something about those hands that made my breath catch, though I couldn't say why.

Then he straightened up and turned toward us, and the world stopped.

He was tall, probably 6’2, with broad shoulders that filled out a gray work shirt in ways that suggested strength without bulk. Dark hair that looked like he'd been running his fingers through it, and a face that belonged more in some romantic period drama than in an automotive repair shop. But it was his eyes that made my knees weak, gray-green, intense, and focused with laser precision on me.

Not on Bri, who was standing closer and had been doing the talking. On me.

The recognition that passed between us was instant and devastating. Like looking into a mirror and seeing not your reflection but your missing half, the part of yourself you hadn't realized was absent.

Time suspended itself in that moment

I felt myself take a step forward without conscious decision, drawn by a pull so magnetic it defied rational thought. My body was moving independently of my mind, responding to some ancient recognition that bypassed every logical framework I possessed.

This was impossible. I didn't know this man, had never seen him before in my life. Yet every cell in my body was screaming that I belonged here, with him, in ways that transcended normal human attraction.

Then something shifted in his expression. The recognition remained, but it was joined by something darker, pain, maybe, or fear. His jaw tightened, and I watched him deliberately rebuild the walls that the moment of connection had torn down.

"Can I help you?" he asked, but the words were directed at Bri with studied politeness that felt like a slap.

The dismissal was so complete, so deliberately cold, that I actually stepped backward as if I'd been physically pushed.

"I'm Bri Hale," she said, apparently oblivious to the supernatural drama that had just played out in front of her. "My father sent me? My car broke down this morning."

"Right. The tow truck brought it in about an hour ago." His voice was professional, efficient, but I could hear the effort it was taking to maintain that normalcy. "I'll need to run some diagnostics before I can give you an estimate."

He spoke to Bri like I wasn't there, like the moment of devastating recognition had never happened. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, the deliberate effort it was taking to avoid looking at me again.

The rejection hurt in ways that defied explanation. How could someone I'd never met dismiss me so completely when we'd just shared a moment of recognition that had felt like coming home?

"How long do you think it will take?" Bri was asking.

"Could be a few days, depending on what's wrong and whether I need to order parts."

His answers were clipped, professional, designed to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Like he wanted us gone from his shop, wanted me gone from his presence.

"Should we leave our contact information?" Bri pressed.

"Your father already provided everything I need."

The finality in his voice was unmistakable. This conversation was over, and we were expected to leave.

But I couldn't move. Despite his cold dismissal, despite the way he was treating me like I was invisible, I felt rooted to the spot by the certainty that walking away from this man would be a mistake I'd regret forever.

"Sera?" Bri's voice seemed to come from very far away. "You ready to go?"

I forced myself to nod, though every instinct I possessed was screaming in protest. As we turned to leave, I risked one last look over my shoulder.

He was watching me. For just a moment, his careful mask had slipped, and I saw something in his eyes that looked like longing mixed with desperation. Like he wanted to call me back but was forcing himself to let me go.

Then the mask snapped back into place, and he turned away with the finality of someone closing a door that would never open again.

"That was weird," Bri said as we stepped back into the gray afternoon. "He seemed so cold. Usually Dad's mechanics are much friendlier."

I couldn't respond. My throat felt tight with emotions I couldn't name, and my hands were shaking with the aftermath of whatever had just happened.

"Maybe he was just having a bad day," she continued, pulling out her phone to call a cab. "Mechanics can be moody about their work."

But I knew it wasn't about his work. The way he'd looked at me, the recognition that had passed between us, the deliberate coldness that had followed, none of that had anything to do with automotive repair.

As we waited for our ride, I found myself staring back at the shop, hoping for another glimpse of the man who'd just turned my world upside down with a single look. But the building revealed nothing, keeping its secrets locked away behind metal walls and tinted windows.

Twenty minutes later, sitting in the back of a taxi heading toward downtown, I was still trying to process what had happened. The magnetic pull I'd felt toward a complete stranger. The way he'd recognized me with the same intensity I'd felt toward him. And most confusing of all, his deliberate rejection of something that had felt more real than anything I'd experienced since the supernatural visions had begun.

"You're awfully quiet," Bri observed, studying my face with growing concern.

"Just tired," I lied, because how could I explain that I'd just met someone who felt like coming home and losing everything simultaneously?

But as the city passed by outside the taxi windows, I couldn't shake the certainty that whatever had started in Morrison's Automotive wasn't finished.

And despite his cold dismissal, despite the way he'd treated our connection like something to be avoided, I knew I'd be back.

Because some recognitions are too powerful to ignore, even when they come wrapped in rejection and tied with inexplicable pain.

The man in the gray work shirt had recognized me, and no amount of professional distance could erase the desperate longing I'd seen in his eyes befo

re he'd forced himself to look away.

The question was whether I had the courage to find out